


lost my faith in my darkest days (but she makes me want to believe)

by safeandsound13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Character Death, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, Modern AU, Pining, Princess Mechanic, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, betch!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safeandsound13/pseuds/safeandsound13
Summary: When Wells suddenly dies, it doesn't matter Clarke hasn't spoken to him in three years. A piece of her dies, and it won't ever come back. It's not until she meets his fiancée that she realizes she's not alone.





	lost my faith in my darkest days (but she makes me want to believe)

**Author's Note:**

> this is loosely based on the movie the firefly / la luciérnaga (2013) which i watched last night when i was in on a Gay Binge on Netflix and then this just happened and now we're here!!!! happy pride:)
> 
> i hope it's in character enough i'm raven reyes number one stan and i love c griffin *gay intensifies* but remember tis fanfiction and this is honestly my first princess mechanic fic so dont be too hard on me???? i'd appreciate it but hey im not your father so do what you want
> 
> song in the title: she is love by parachute  
> song in fic: easy my mind by gay icon hayley kiyoko

 

.

_you keep me up_

_you keep me up at night_

_girl ease my mind_

.

When Clarke hears the news, the first thing she thinks is of when her and Wells were little children, how he'd just firmly smiled at her after an older kid tramped her sandcastle, big and warm and missing his front tooth. She was ready to kick his ass—because even then, art was her life and that sandcastle was a piece of shit, but it was hers—but Wells handled it strategically, like always. He knew tiny Clarke was never going to win a fistfight with big, broad stupid, sixth grade Dax. He calmed her down and convinced the kid that they were too scared of him to retaliate and when he let his guard down—Wells pretended Dax tripped him, right in front of the teachers, the older boy breaking a record days of detention.

It's stupid, but back then she never imagined a world in which he wasn't by her side, helping her make the logical decisions and holding her hand when she was too stubborn to listen to him and screwed up because she was too caught up in her own idealisms. She never imagined a world without his big toothy smile. Or his dumb nerdy jokes. Or how he _always_ managed to beat her at chess.

Even though… Even though it was a conscious decision to not have him in her life for the past three years.

And now, three months later, she's sitting on his apartment floor about to tell her husband she wants a divorce because of Wells. Indirectly, or directly, it doesn't matter.

To think it all started on his wedding day.

.

_three months earlier_

"The car's here," a deep voice says, followed by two knocks on the door.

"I can't do this," Wells answers, turning away from his reflection in the mirror to look at his best man. He shakes his head, loosening his bowtie a little.

Bellamy walks over to him, clapping him on the shoulder firmly. "This is not the time to get cold feet, dude." A few curls fall into his eyes because he's leaning down, very degradingly, if anyone would ask Wells. "Raven is way, way out of your league and she might start realizing it any minute now."

Wells shrugs his hand off, frowning as he turns back to the mirror. "It's not that. I would never do that to her." He looks down, closing his eyes firmly. "It's just that… I can't do this without Clarke."

"Clarke?" Bellamy raises his eyebrows, then the corners of his mouth quirk up into a smirk. "As your best man, I would feel offended if it wasn't for the fact that you grew up with her and she's seen you in your Spongebob undies."

"Shut up," Wells says, but it lacks heat. He picks up the picture frame on his dresser, it's him, and Clarke, and their dads. Back when he thought that a flat top was a good look for him and she was really into rainbow tattoo chokers. They were twelve. "It's on the way to the church."

"What if she's not home?"

"Then…" He shakes his head, as if he can't even consider it. He taps the picture, once, twice. "Then at least I know I tried until the very last minute."

Bellamy checks his wristwatch, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. "Fine, but we'll have to get going right now if we want to—"

"No, it's okay," Wells squeezes his shoulder, photoframe held tightly in his free hand as he offers him a smile. "I have to do this on my own."

Bellamy nods, because he has a sister, and he'd do the same. "Okay, but remember that Raven will be having _your_ balls for breakfast if you make her think you're standing her up."

Wells just reaches into Bellamy's jacket to take his car keys, raising his eyebrows slightly. He just about hears the 'good luck' his best man throws his way before he's out of the door and into Bellamy's car.

.

Raven kind of feels like she can't breathe. She only agreed to this whole thing because Wells said he'd be there. She wore this big ass, stupid ass white dress that's hurting her leg because it's so heavy, and they went cake tasting even though she hates cake, and—and she even learned the waltz for this. He'd be there.

She loved him so much, that that was enough. To get through it. To stand in front of all these people, mostly his people, and declare her eternal love for him. She didn't even like churches, they gave her the creeps.

"Bellamy is here," Harper, the sweet soul, tries to calm her down, smiling shyly as she rubs Raven's arm. Her mom is sitting next to her, typing out an email.

She swallows hard, taking a deep breath. The lace of the dress itches and the nervous sweat on her back is just making it worse.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she tells Harper, or anyone in her near proximity really, she just has to say it. Hear her own voice out loud. The blonde says something in return but it fades away in the loud, pounding silence in her head.

Raven's eyes land on Bellamy. Bellamy's phone rings and he turns away from them. She doesn't hear anything, doesn't feel Harper touching her anymore, her vision blurs most of her surroundings. She pulls off her veil and then she just—runs.

He said he'd be there.

.

Clarke woke up at five a.m. and proceeded to watch a stupid movie about talking animals trying to save the world while eating Lucky Charms from the box. She's been trying to scratch the leftover paint from yesterday off her hands, but it just leaves the skin red and painful. She knows better, but it's a good distraction from the fact that her best friend is getting married today and she's not there.

Finn wakes up and showers around seven, but he doesn't even notice her on the floor in front of the TV in her pyjamas with a messy bun on her head and last night's make-up still on until after he's gotten dressed and eaten breakfast.

He kneels down next to her, a lock of his long hair falling into his face until he brushes his back. "It has no sense obsessing over it, you know that, right?"

She just hums, not taking her eyes off the talking golden retriever on the TV. His eyes land on the frame on the coffee table in front of her, then he just shakes his head slightly and kisses her forehead. "I'll be home late, so don't wait on me for dinner, okay?"

"Okay," she answers absentmindedly, chewing down on her bottom lip as he gets up and shrugs on his jacket. She has this feeling, in the pit of her stomach, that something's not right. But Finn would want to talk about her feelings, and… she doesn't feel like talking.

She can't quite place the feeling, until the phone rings and a part of her—a part of her just dies.

.

They, she and Finn, go and see Wells on the day of his funeral. He has an open casket even though he was in a car crash, and when she looks at him it's not the same. His dark golden rimmed eyes are closed, and his beautiful brown skin is bruised and cracked from the accident. There's cotton wool cloths in his nose because it was broken when he hit the steering wheel. It's not the same and it'll never be the same.

She feels like her knees might give out any second now, but there's no on there to hold her. Finn's outside talking to other guests because he thought she needed to do this alone. She wants to scream at Wells to open his eyes and tell her _why_ but she knows it won't make a difference. She throws up in the bathroom and ignores her mother when she tries to talk to her. She doesn't know what's good for her anymore.

She's leaning against a wall, with her eyes firmly closed because she doesn't want to cry, but tears escape anyway. A hand touches her wrist lightly and she opens them, sniffing as she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hands.

She didn't even bother getting dressed and she feels stupid all of a sudden, standing in front of Thelonious in her paint splattered jeans and an old plaid shirt she's not even sure belongs to her. She hasn't combed her hair since she heard and there's bags under her eyes that she thinks might never disappear. She looks like a mess—she _is_ a mess, but he just smiles kindly. All she can see when he smiles is Wells, and it hurts.

"Clarke," he says in an all too familiar, soft voice and if she was a decent person she'd acknowledge how hard this was for him, too, notice his swollen eyes and the way his tie is just a little off because Wells always helped him with his ties. She's just hurting so much that if she acknowledges anyone else's pain she might collapse. A part of her is dead, and it won't ever return, and that hurts like hell.

He holds something out for her, but she just blinks at him. "It was with him in the car." Finn presses a hand in between her shoulder blades, and she clears her throat, taking the object. She doesn't even look down at it, just presses it against her chest.

"Thanks for coming, Clarke," Thelonious urges, final, squeezing her shoulder softly before moving on to the next person.

She just about crumples down on the steps of the funeral home, finally looking down. It's a picture of them, and Thelonious and, and—her dad. They're at Disney World, she's covered in cotton candy and Wells is smiling like an idiot. They're happy. Like some kind of sick karmic joke, it's the same picture she was looking at when she got the call that he died.

Finn sits down a step below her, rubbing her knee. "I'll give you a second." She wants to tell him no, please stay, but her mouth feels like paper and she doesn't have the energy.

A tan skinned woman comes over to her after a while, a pearl necklace around her neck. "I'm sorry, dear. My name is Maryse Reyes. I don't know if you know, but. My daughter, she was engaged to Wells." She clears her throat lightly, like she's uncomfortable and Clarke finally looks up at her to help her out of her misery.

She smiles, but it's distant, cold. "This is a box of his stuff, that he left at my home. Raven, she left to go see her father in Mexico. So I thought you might be best fit to receive this. He once told me you were like his sister."

Clarke swallows tightly, then after a moment nods, collecting the white box from her, placing the frame on top of it. Maryse looks like she might wants to say something else, but she just nods and then disappears back into the main room.

Clarke opens the box, brushing some of her wavy hair from her face as she sniffs. There's some chess pieces, his stupid soccer cards and battered LA Galaxy cap, a phone charger, a tie with an obnoxious print and a Taylor Swift CD. She huffs, corners of her lips turned up slightly despite herself before she closes the box after taking out the cap and placing it on her head.

Finn drives them to the cemetery when it's time for the burial to start, but she can't get out of the car. Somehow watching him being lowered into the cold ground just—it's too much, and she can't do it. She reclines the chair until she's lying down, and ignores her husband until he finally goes outside.

Someone knocks on the window after a while, and she pulls the dirt stained cap further down her face, hoping it's enough of a message that she has no intention of getting out of the car.

The driver's seat door opens and when she opens her eyes and is halfway through a sentence full of curses directed at Finn, she notices it's Bellamy. His hair is messy, his eyes are red and there's a coffee stain on his dress shirt.

"I'm not coming out."

"I know," he retorts without skipping a beat as he reclines his chair as much as hers. "I'd say it's nice to see you, but we'd both know that we wish it was under different circumstances."

"That, and we don't like each other." It started when he beat her at Mario Kart and called her a spoiled princess, developed into a relatively nice discussion-filled acquaintanceship and it ended when they just never kept in touch after Wells and her fell out. He was their common dominator.

"I was trying to sugarcoat it but I guess I should've known better than to do that with you." He rolls his eyes. "If anything, we were always honest with each other. _Loudly_ so."

She smiles, but tears form in her eyes so it dies down quickly as she directs her gaze at the ceiling instead. She clenches her jaw, tries to think of anything else but Wells, but comes up short. He was her brother, he was a part of her and she didn't speak to him for three years. How can she go out there and watch him being lowered into the ground knowing that?

He stares at the ceiling, too, swallowing tight as he plays around nervously with something in his hands. He was Wells' best friend, too, she realizes, but she can't be bothered to make note of it out loud. They both know it, they're both doing shitty and here they are.

Finally, he stops fiddling around with his hands, turning his head to look at her, but his eyes land everywhere but on hers. "Look, Wells gave me the keys of his apartment because he really wanted me to make sure Zeus and Athena survived his honeymoon."

"Goldfish?"

"No, his plants," he grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I got to pick the names."

He holds out his hand, a pair of keys with a keychain of Darth Vader and a leopard printed peace sign hanging from his fingers. "Anyway, I thought you might want to have them. Go through his stuff, and… I don't know. Say goodbye. I don't think Thelonious is up for it any time soon and, and I thought maybe you might need it." More than him, he means, but doesn't say, Clarke thinks.

She takes them, testing the weight of them out in her hands before looking at him. He takes her in for a second, like he's considering her state of mind then adds, "It's over on Ark Street. Apartment 25."

"Thank you," she answers, softly. Ever since she got the call, she didn't know what was going to happen next, what she was going to do or where she was going to go. Now she does.

He nods, then leaves the car after a moment, leaving her alone with her thoughts until Finn comes back. "Can I have your keys?" She asks immediately, but it's more of a demand.

"Why?" He asks, already handing them over because that's who he is. Finn Collins, lives and breathes for Clarke Griffin. Finn Collins always has something to say, but it's never quite right. Finn Collins is always there for her, but not _really_ there.

"I'm going over to his apartment," she explains, already maneuvering her way into the driver's seat. Finn opens the door to the passenger's seat, ready to get in. She jams the key into the ignition, frowning over at him. "What are you doing?"

"I think it'd just be better for you if I came with—"

Yet again, he just doesn't understand. She clenches her jaw to keep from snapping, the slowly lets him know, "Finn, get out of the damn car before I—"

He steps back, brow furrowed together as he stares at her in concern. "Fine, fine. Just… be careful, okay?"

She speeds off as soon as he closes the door, her vision blurry with tears. She just can't stop fucking crying.

.

She opens the door and is immediately greeted by the smell of fresh earth and strong coffee, and the sound of "Be my Baby" from the Ronettes playing softly on his record player. She notices his old high school letterman jacket hanging on the coatrack and without realizing she's doing it, slips into it. His smell engulfs her and she feels a little better.

She runs her fingers over the map of the world hanging on his wall, the places he'd been marked with multicolored pushpins and it makes her feel worse. She walks over to the record player and stops it, putting the record away neatly because that's what he'd wanted her to do because that boy loved his vintage records. She doesn't know who put the music on, but when she walks into the bedroom she gets her answer.

In his bed, there's a heap of wedding dress, some brown hair peaking out from the top of it. It smells like vodka and vomit and Clarke doesn't know what to say.

"Wells," the pile of white fabric cries out, and it's then she realizes this must be Raven. "I knew you'd come. You said you'd be there and now you are." Clarke's heart breaks a little further, and at this point she doesn't think it'll ever be whole again.

She steps closer to the bed and Raven reaches out her tan hands, red nail polish chipped, breathing his name again, "Wells." She sounds so broken and empty that Clarke can't help but take her hands, pulling her against her chest.

"It's okay," she exhales decisively, stroking her long brown hair from her face, shushing her quietly. "It's okay."

"Don't leave me ever again," her voice breaks, thick tears running down her already mascara stained cheeks. "Don't."

"I won't, I promise," she tells her, and she means it. From the moment she walked in, she felt a connection to this girl, the only one who maybe truly understood what she felt. "I won't ever leave you."

.

The first days, they just nap in his bed, crying until they can't any more, screaming and yelling when they feel like it and holding each other because it just feels good to know they're not alone in this.

Day three, they go grocery shopping because not even a deep depression can keep Clarke from eating. She's pushes and mostly fills the shopping cart (with alcohol and breakfast foods) while Raven's inside it, just sporting a maroon leather jacket over her wedding dress and a pair of black pilot sunglasses. Se occasionally points at something she really wants, like marshmallows or a magazine about cars. They probably look like a circus show, but Clarke couldn't care less.

"I met your mom," she says, just to say something.

Raven huffs, flipping through one of her magazines before discarding it in her lap without a second thought. "My _sincere_ condolences."

Clarke snorts, throwing a pack of twizzlers into the cart. "You two don't get along?"

"Let's just say she's the reason my dad immigrated back to Mexico."

"You're from Mexico?" She scowls at a woman who stares at Raven weirdly, even though she doesn't even notice. "I hear it's beautiful there."

"It is," she smiles half-heartedly, but it fades within the next few words. "I haven't been back there since I met him. We were going there for our honeymoon."

"How long's that?" She asks, even though she knows the answer.

"Three years," Raven says, wiping at a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Three years, huh," Clarke repeats, absentmindedly.

When they get to the apartment, by some miracle she manages to heat up some soup. When she was younger, she never really learned because they had a chef and she wasn't allowed in the kitchen and then in college she just lived off ramen noodles and red bull like everyone else. After that, she met Finn and he ended that healthy diet for her. So soup's the limit really.

Raven takes a bite and a half before calmly putting the spoon down next to her plate. She struggles to get up from her chair with her leg—she wears some sort of brace around it—but when Clarke reaches out to help her she just glares at her, insistent on doing it herself.

She stumbles and hobbles over to the bedroom and Clarke just figures she needs some alone time. She's about halfway through her meal of lukewarm soup when she hears the sobs.

They're loud, and suddenly she's screeching, too. Clarke rushes into the bedroom to find her in front of the closet on her knees, one of Wells' shirts crumpled against her chest in her fist and a picture in her other hand.

She's screeching at this point, and Clarke tries to shake her to get her to stop, yells at her to be quiet, but nothing works, nothing gets through to her. Finally, she slaps her, the sound of skin colliding with skin halting the sobs to a low murmur until she finally speaks, scratching at her chest and throat. "I can't breathe. I can't breathe."

Clarke takes the shirt and hangs it back into the closet, then takes the picture and puts it down on the bed carefully before stepping around Raven and unzipping her dress. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

She's hyperventilating, her chest stuttering with every breath she takes as she steps out of the dress with Clarke's help, revealing white bridal underwear. She's still wearing the garter, too.

Clarke helps her stumble over to the bathroom, and lays out a towel for her. "You're going to be okay in here, right?" She presses, fingers wrapped around Raven's wrist. She's still breathing irregularly, but the crying stopped and the look in her eyes is clearer, a little brighter. She nods in response, unwrapping Clarke's hand from her arm. "I'm going to be okay."

She nods, considering her for just a moment longer before going back into the bedroom. She crawls into the bed, taking the picture into her hands delicately, hands shaking just the tiniest bits. It's a picture of Wells and Raven, party lights illuminating their faces. They look so happy. Wells deserved this, despite what he did to her, despite how she woke up for the longest time thinking he was a monster, he still had more good days than bad.

Raven comes back after a while, wrapped in a towel, combing out her hair. "It's from the day we met."

She runs her finger over Wells' face carefully, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought. "Is he actually bleeding or is it just a bad halloween costume?"

Raven laughs, and Clarke feels like she's done crying and she got out what she wanted to get out. "Bellamy took him to his school's office party which was at the bar where I worked. He was seriously overdressed in his stupid dress shirt and bright pink tie. Some sleazy guys were commenting about how good I would look with _only_ my brace on and how they'd love to be able to get 'sex with a cripple' off of their bucketlist and he overheard."

"Don't tell me…" Clarke sighs, rolling her eyes. "He got his ass handed to him?"

Raven smirked, getting up from the bed to get dressed in some of her spare clothes she left at the apartment. So, black yoga pants and one of Wells' old button downs. "He did. And then I saved him by kicking their asses and tore him a new one about trying to save my honor while he just sat there in the backroom, smirking, holding a bag of ice against his eye." She pauses, pulling her hair out of the back of his shirt, staring at nothing as she reminisces.

"I never doubted for a second you could take care of yourself, I just wanted to impress you," he'd smirked, bright white teeth contrasting nicely against his dark skin.

She examined the cut to his cheekbone, pressing the gauze a little harder against his skin than necessary, making him hiss in pain. "How's that working out for you, huh?"

"I got you alone, didn't I?" He'd smiled sheepishly, and she tried really hard to glare at him, but it doesn't carry much heat when she can't keep from smiling back at him like an idiot.

She cocked an eyebrow. "It takes more than a fistfight for my honor to impress me, you know that, right? This isn't 1827." She wasn't convinced that easily.

Courageous as ever, he'd leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. "You're a damn idiot," she'd murmured against his lips, "but you're lucky you're a cute idiot."

"Please, I'm a straight up _hot piece of ass_ ," he'd interjected teasingly, pulling at the end of her ponytail playfully; and somehow that didn't sound cocky coming from his mouth and somehow she'd laughed and somehow she'd made up her mind right there and then. He was it for her.

Raven swallows, purses her lips as she sits back down on the bed next to Clarke. "So, I kind of fell in love with him right there and then and we pretty much spent a shitload of our time together after that."

"Did he…" Clarke trails off, trying to gather her thoughts as she licks her dry lips. She's still wearing his stupid cap, but it makes her feel closer to him. "Did he ever talk about me?"

"He picked me up early one time, to go to a museum? He stopped in front of this apartment block, acting all shady and mysterious. When I asked him what was up, he told me his best friend lived there. Clarke," she tests it out, then continues, "I told him I'd go see if you were home but he told me not to bother, because even if you were you wouldn't want to speak to him."

Clarke would like to interrupt her, say that was never true, but it was. She chews on her thumbnail, recalling the last time they talked, like it plays over and over in her head.

"Did you really do it, did you really tell them?" Instead of a hello when she picked up the phone when it'd flashed his name, it was an accusation.

Her dad had been diagnosed with incurable cancer a few months back but there'd been a new clinical that promised a significant extension of life. The only problem was that her dad had worked with a type of dangerous chemicals because of his job as environmental engineer that eliminated him from being a good contestant for the trial. She'd confided in Wells about her worries that someone might find out and next thing she knows, the doctors know and they're informing her and her parents there's nothing else they can do.

"Yeah, yeah," he'd said after a moment, sounding distracted. "I, I didn't think it was fair to the other patients who did qualify."

"I'll never forgive you for this, you know that, right? You took away my dad, he's, he's—he's dying, Wells. He's dying and all I can do is hold his hand and hope it won't hurt too much."

"I'm sorry," is all he'd offered and she'd sobbed, because she couldn't believe he'd done it but he did nothing to contradict her and his apology came up short. Her voice hoarse and broken, wiping her tears away roughly, she'd told him, "You're a monster."

Raven's voice breaks her out of her thoughts. "Last year, on his birthday—he was a mess." She furrows her brows together, picking at her fingernails. "He drank so much he had to throw up and then he was talking about how bad of a boyfriend he was and when I told him no, he told me that maybe that was true, but he was a bad friend and that if you never spoke to him again, that he at least made the right decision."

"I called him that night," Clarke answers, lamely, because she doesn't know what all of it means. He made the right decision? It's hard listening to Raven talk about a person she grew up with, but maybe never really understood or will understand. That she maybe never know the part or version of him that Raven knew.

" _Wells. Hi. It's Clarke. I'm calling to let you know that there's a mass for my dad tomorrow at his church at 10 a.m. I, uhh. I know he was important to you, too, that you loved him, too, so. I just. I guess I wanted you to know. And, happy birthday, Wells."_

She'd hated herself, for setting herself up for a disappointment because a small part of her had hoped he'd be there. That he would maybe make her feel better about the thousandth fight she'd had with her mom and how she'd felt like she failed her dad and that maybe she could forgive him with time.

"I know. We woke up late the next day and then all of a sudden he was rushing over to the church but when we got there—it was empty."

Clarke lies down in the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering about a thousand what ifs. Raven runs a hand down Clarke's arm, "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Clarke turns on her other side, facing Raven. She lets out a deep breath. "No. I don't." She wants to add more, but she feels like Raven understands her anyway.

Raven nods, lying down so she's facing Clarke, brushing some hair away from her face. She lets out a shaky breath. "It's not blood that defines family. It's your heart."

"I don't—I can't… I don't know how to get passed this."

Raven snorts without much humour. "Nothing like a little earth shattering pain to remind you you're alive, huh?"

After that, it's back to bed.

.

She'd texted Finn early on that she was staying over at Wells' place for a while, but when she wakes up, he's left a voicemail. Something about movers coming over to his place today and how he misses her but is choosing to give her space.

She gets in the shower, carefully placing Wells' cap on the bathroom sink before stepping out of her clothes and letting the warm water clean her skin. It feels good to wash her hair, makes her feel a little more like herself.

Raven stumbles in at one point, peeing in front of her because she doesn't give a fuck. She yawns, handing her a towel as she gets out. The bell rings, and she gets up to get it before Clarke can open her mouth to say thank you.

Clarke just shakes her head and gets dressed, only to find Raven about to punch the mover guy because he's holding a painting he's apparently not allowed to take.

Clarke steps in the middle of the two, holding Raven's hand in her own. "I'm sorry, she's just upset. Go ahead." She turns back to Raven, whose neck is flushed in anger, mouth opening to yell at her, too before Clarke raises her eyebrows.

"They're just taking it too storage, okay? They're not throwing anything away. It's going to be fine," Clarke explains softly, squeezing her hand, Raven's frown slowly disappearing from her face as she continues. "Just—let them take his stuff, okay?"

"Okay," Raven forces out finally, jaw clenched. She lets out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. "Okay."

Clarke nods, then instructs the movers to work as quickly as possible as she sits down at the kitchen island with Raven, watching them work.

"How are you doing?" Clarke asks after they leave, staring at the empty apartment in front of her.

The brunette leans her head on Clarke's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm… coping." She rubs her shoulder, kissing her forehead softly. "Yeah, me too."

.

They go to Walmart to get stuff to make the apartment liveable for the time being, until—until Clarke doesn't know what, she can't really imagine having to go through this without Raven.

Clarke finds Raven at the checkout with a picnic blanket and hot flaming cheetos because the woman's tastebuds aren't functioning properly. She holds up a candle that portrays Taylor Swift as Holy Mary, smirking like an idiot. "I thought this one would be nice, you know. Considering the obsession you both have with her."

"Jesus, I swear to God he forced me to listen to her."

"Right. Tell that to the girl that sings all the lyrics to Shake It Off from the top of her head in the shower."

Raven knocks her shoulder into Clarke's, leaning her head there for a second. Then she looks at her, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "Thanks."

Clarke knows it's not a 'thanks for the candle' but more a 'thanks for making me feel anything else than an emotion that makes me want to cry in the fetus position' so she leans into her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "No problem."

The lady at the checkout sends them a weird look that Bisexual Clarke is very used to getting, so she just ignores it. Not today, Satan, not today.

"He told me that was jealous of you, all the time. Like when you became class president over him in high school or when you stole his prom date," she tells her later, when they're having a picnic in the middle of the living room.

"Please, my mom rigged that election and you know him, he has no game. His date literally begged me to take her instead." Raven laughs and it makes Clarke laugh too, distracts her from how she'd said 'has' instead of 'had'.

Their laughter fades and Clarke takes a huge swig of wine from her glass, staring at the pattern of the blanket as her fingernails dig into her thighs.

"You're thinking very loudly," Raven cuts in, playful tone to her voice, nudging her with her elbow. "What's wrong?"

"I just," her hoarse voice shakes and she can't hold it in any longer, blinking away the tears quickly. "I just wish I could speak to him, just once. Just one more time, you know?"

"I think," Raven starts, reaching over for the bottle of vodka, left unopened next to the wine, "We deserve a stronger drink. Or six."

"Or six," Clarke laughs through her tears, and Raven hugs her, tight, wiping away her tears. "Bottom's up, Griffin."

.

"Where are we going?" Raven asks, feet up on the dashboard, head leaning against the glass. "This is not the fastest road to a KFC and I know this because I memorized every KFC location within a fifty mile radius."

"Highway to hell, baby."

"Ha-ha, very funny," she retorts, in a tone that implies she thinks Clarke is anything but funny. "Seriously, _where_ are we going?"

Clarke smirks, eyes firmly planted on the road. "You'll see when we get there."

Raven rolls her eyes, turning up the volume of the radio. She changes the channel when Blank Space comes on and Clarke pretends not to notice.

Clarke brings the car to a halt when she gets where she wants to go and Raven turns her head to look at her. "What the fuck are we doing here?"

She opens her mouth to explain as she takes the keys out of the ignition but Raven cuts her off, "I don't _want_ to be here, Clarke!"

"We have to do this," Clarke urges, reaching out for her hand but Raven pulls hers away quickly. "I don't have to do anything."

"You're right," Clarke swallows, staring at the steering wheel as she tries to gather her thoughts. "You don't. You don't have to do anything. But. _I_ have to do this. And I can't do it alone." She turns her head to look at Raven, her blue eyes meeting her darker eyes, pleading, she asks, "Could you please help me, Raven? Could you please do this, for me?"

"I don't understand what being here could possibly do for you."

"I need to say goodbye, to my best friend, to, to my brother. To him, Raven."

"Your brother?" Raven's voice breaks, shaking her head in disbelief. "He was my fiancé, Clarke. We were going to get married. As a matter of fact, we were about to get married when he drove over to you, and died." Her jaw is set, hands curled into fists. "He was my family, Clarke. My only family. I don't have anyone else."

Clarke reaches out and hugs her, even though Raven only dry sobs against her shoulder, arms stiff beside her body. After a while, they get out and Clarke walks over to Wells' grave. Raven follows her, steps more hesitant than Clarke's.

"Hi. I'm sorry. For being here so late," Clarke whispers, pressing her fingers against his name on the headstone lightly. She feels Raven hover behind her for a while, until she finally kneels down beside her, shoulders tense. "I brought Raven," Clarke tries softly, looking over at her. Her jaw is locked tightly, head shaking slightly to keep herself from crying.

"I didn't want to come here, Clarke. I'm tired of crying," she snaps, and Clarke reaches out to hold her hand, ignoring her as she turns back to the headstone. "As you can see, she's probably still as stubborn as when you were still here."

Raven huffs at that, humoured as she tentatively reaches out. She almost pulls back when she makes contact with her fingers, but instead places her entire hand on top of his stone. "I'm sorry," a tear rolls down her cheek, "I'm sorry I was never as courageous as you. I guess that's why it took me a while."

Clarke squeezes her hand, and they sit there for a while, holding each other, talking to Wells, until it starts to get dark and it's time to say goodbye.

"There's just this universal rule that graveyards are creepy at night. Not even you are worth being haunted by ghosts. Sorry, dude."

Pressing a kiss to her palm before pressing it against his headstone, Raven whispers, "I promise we'll be back soon, okay?"

.

"So how is she?" Finn asks as he takes a sip from his water, scanning the menu for vegan options, probably. He's an ambassador for Greenpeace and takes it very seriously.

"She's is one of the strongest people I've ever met," Clarke tells him, _really_ looking him for the first time since forever. Softer, she adds, "She's special. I see why Wells wanted to marry her." Finn doesn't seem to notice anything, just humming in response.

"Don't you think Maryse should know she's still in the US?" He looks at her over his menu, raising his eyebrows and Clarke shrugs. "I guess. But, she's a grown woman, you know. It's not really up to us."

"If you want me to, I can talk to her for y—"

"No, absolutely not," she cuts in, sending him an amused grin. "It's none of our business, Finn." Her eyes light up as Raven makes her way over to them. "There she is."

"Raven, this is my husband, Finn," she says as he sticks out his hand.

"I'm Raven," she offers him, shaking his hand, sitting down in the booth across from him next to Clarke.

"Nice to meet you," he smiles, charming as ever and she grins back half-heartedly. "Yeah, you too."

"So," Raven starts, leaning back against the booth as she looks from Finn to Clarke. "How long have you two been married?"

"Uhm," Finn pretends to think, then grins widely, "Nah. About four years. I'm good with dates, right, babe? I've never forgotten a single anniversary."

"That's true." She nods, "I'm usually the one scrambling together a gift last-minute."

"Usually ends up being of the sexual kind," he laughs, stirring his straw around his glass and Raven snorts, looking anything but amused. "Ha. Okay."

"Any plans for kids?" The brunette asks, sipping on the glass of wine Clarke ordered for her.

"We're working on it," Finn answers before Clarke can open her mouth. There was a time when she wanted nothing more than to hold one of those fat babies with her blue eyes and Finn's adorable smile. Now, that just feels like another life.

"I can't have children," Clarke cuts in, honestly, taking a swig of her wine as she avoids Finn's gaze, opting to look at Raven instead, whose eyes visibly soften.

"The doctor told us that—"

"The doctor told us a lot of things," Clarke interjects, sending Finn a pointed look. She went through enough semesters in medical school to get the memo she was never barring any biological children. Not with her uterus. She was fine with it really. Like Raven said, family is not just about blood. Finn really wanted to keep trying though, because it was important to him. She didn't mind the sex, really, and she knew it wasn't happening so it was a win/win.

Finn sends her a close-mouthed smile, and Raven's fingers wrap around hers comfortingly. She turns back to Finn. "Let's have a toast." She picks up her glass with her free hand, offering Clarke a sympathetic smile. "There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how dark it seems."

She passive-aggressively only clinks her glass with Clarke's until Finn clears his throat, to which she presses her lips together.

"I'm sorry," Raven offers, later, when they're both in the bathroom while Finn texts his boss about a meeting in the morning. She's washing her hands as Clarke touches up on her lipstick. "For prying. It's just that—you never mentioned him."

"What?" Clarke frowns at their reflection in the mirror, tapping her finger at the middle of her lip to fade the makeup out a little.

"That you were married to Finn," Raven looks at her judgmentally, drying her hands with a paper towel.

"Oh," Clarke answers dumbly, thinking it over. She guesses it never really did cross her mind. "You're right, I guess I didn't."

"Why are you still married to him?" She retorts, blunt as ever.

Clarke snorts, sending her an incredulous look. "What were you saying again? That you were sorry for prying?"

"I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. You look at him like he's your brother and he looks at you like you hung the moon, so there's no point in trying to convince me otherwise."

"It's.. complicated."

Raven clicks her tongue, "Oh wow. The 'it's complicated' excuse. What's this? Facebook in 2008?"

Clarke rolls her eyes, running a hand through her hair as she leans back against the sink. "It's the truth."

Raven mirrors her position, cocking an eyebrow. "Don't you think life is a little too short to be complicated?"

Clarke suddenly reaches out her hand to cup Raven's face.

Raven leans back the slightest bit, swallowing visibly heavy. "What are you doing?"

Clarke smirks, using her thumb to wipe carefully at the corner of her lips. "Relax. You have something on your face."

She's leaning dangerously close now, able to make out the specks of gold in Raven's dark dilated eyes, thumb running softly over her bottom lip before resting there. She is _so_ unbelievably pretty, she thinks. Raven is staring at Clarke's own lips, blinking slowly before looking back at her. She leans the slightest bit closer, just an inch, just close enough—when the door opens, and they jump apart, laughing to relief some of the tension.

A lady passes them and Raven tucks some of her hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear, nodding at Clarke before pushing out of the door back into the restaurant. Clarke takes a deep breath and a hard look at herself in the mirror, before following her back out.

.

They drop off Raven on the way home, ensuring she's going to be fine on her own about thirty times, and it's weird, but it's like she's immediately a little more lonely.

"...things are happening, Clarke. That's why I called you, asked you to come home. I wanted to see you before I leave."

That catches her attention, and she turns to him sharply. "You're leaving?"

"I'm so close to a promotion, babe, it's insane," he smiles, cupping her chin to turn her face towards his, then his hand drops down to her shoulder. "I booked the cabin near the TonDC lake for us next weekend, I thought maybe it would be nice for you—"

"Well, stop thinking shitty things _for_ me, Finn," she snaps, feeling a little betrayed. She came home for him, and now he's leaving? "I don't need you next weekend. I need you this weekend. I don't want to go to a fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere."

"I didn't think you'd mind, I mean, you have Raven now and you hadn't really spoken to Wells si—" He knows better than to finish that sentence, noticing the look on her face.

"I'm tired, I think I'm just going to go to bed," she tells him, cold as she rushes out of the room. "Clarke," he tries, but she ignores him. She can't think around him.

She lies awake in bed until his alarm goes off, until he showers and gets dressed, until he takes his suitcase and leaves for the airport. Then, she picks up her phone, going over to the balcony.

She tosses it around in her hands for a few minutes, staring at the lit up skyscrapers around her before deciding to just dial her already. She picks up immediately.

"Hi. I'm sorry to call this late," she starts, clearing her throat. "It's just that I woke up and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"It's okay," she breathes, just a little more confident than her. "I was just about to call you. I was having the same problem."

"Are you okay?" Clarke asks tentatively, because she knows part of the reason she has trouble sleeping is Wells, because she's afraid to close her eyes and see him, and the other part is something she isn't quite ready to talk or think about.

"Yeah," she replies after a moment, like she's actually considering it. "I think I just… miss you, you know?" She says it so easily, like it's the most normal thing in the world and Clarke finally feels like she can breathe again.

"Yeah, yeah," she echoes, "I miss you, too."

.

She wakes up the next morning with something sharp pricking into her side. She rubs her eyes, slowly stretching before looking to see what it is. It's a note, from Finn.

_I hate to leave you, babe. I'll be back soon I changed the cabin reservation to this weekend, just in case you want to go with Raven. xx_

She lets out a sigh, putting the card down on her nightstand as she swings her legs over the side of the bed. Her head still feels a little foggy from the lack of sleep and the bed feels emptier than it ever has.

**RAVEN: dude, can you pick me up in like half an hour? i want to tell my mom i'm not a fugitive and get some stuff**

She texts her back a quick affirmative before getting ready to go over to Wells' apartment. Or Raven's. Raven's and hers, sometimes.

She picks up Raven and she gives directions to her mom's place while turning up the radio, bopping her head to a new Paramore song. She's wearing overalls, with a white t-shirt that reads NASA under it, a red bandana accompanying her usual ponytail.

"Someone's happy today," Clarke notes with a smile, making a left when Raven instructs her to do so.

She turns her head to look at her, probably to gauge if she's being judgemental or not. Apparently the answer satisfies her because her smile widens. "Yeah. I'm having a good day today. My leg doesn't isn't fucking with me as much as usual, and—I feel… I feel good, yeah."

"I'm glad," Clarke states truthfully as Raven tells her to pull up to a driveway. If Raven can have a good day, so she can she. Even if it means she has to smile her way through the tears.

"I'll be right back," she informs her, getting out the car and disappearing behind a fence.

Clarke rolls open the window and enjoys the nice weather while the Top 40 plays on the background until her trunk opens and she realizes Raven's back. She makes her way over there, raising her eyebrows teasingly as she shifts her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Was your mom happy to know you didn't change nationalities?"

"She wasn't home," she just answers, face blank as she lifts her trolley into Clarke's trunk. "I left a message," she presses at the look on Clarke's face, rolling her eyes and she holds up her hands in defense. "Hey, I'm the last person on earth who gets to judge someone for their mommy issues."

Raven shoots her a look over her shoulder as she gets back in the car, and Clarke just shakes her head to herself, following her. "What's with all the luggage? Are you going to Mexico for real?"

"Nah," she says, fastening her seatbelt as Clarke starts the car. "I'm moving into Wells' apartment. Like we had planned. I'm going to live my life as well as possible."

"Do you honestly think that's a good idea, to move in there alone?" She worries, glancing over at her friend.

She shrugs, casually. "I've been alone my entire life. My parents divorced when I was a baby, my dad moved to Mexico and my mom spends more time working than she does with me. I've never been put first. Not by anyone. Not until I met Wells."

Clarke nods, understanding Raven doesn't want pity, she just wants her to understand. It makes her mad, yes, that people would treat her that way, that she ever felt alone to begin with, but she also knows that she's felt the loneliest in the biggest crowds. It's not always something you have control over.

"He always put me first, picked me first. _Always._ " Her voice doesn't waver for a moment. Her tone is serious, but bare of any emotion. "Until our wedding day. He picked you first, then."

"Rae," she starts, but Raven shakes her head, cutting her off. "No, it's okay. That's the kind of person he is— _was_ , and that's why I loved him and why I will always love him."

Clarke nods, pressing her lips together in a sympathetic smile. She uses her free hand to squeeze Raven's hand. She clears her throat lightly, then offers, "You know I'd pick you first, right?"

"Of course you would," she sends her an incredulous look, squeezing once more before throwing her hand back into her own lap as she slides on her sunglasses. "I'm _awesome._ "

Clarke laughs, airy and bubbly, and it feels like a damn good day. "What do you think about a roadtrip to TonDC?"

.

"Wow, you two are seriously loaded," Raven exclaims, flopping down on the Kingsized bed as she looks around at the cabin. It's nice, and it has a lot of room, but Clarke grew up rich and that's made her numb in a material sense.

"Nah, the occasional painting I sell is nothing compared to what Finn makes." Clarke drops her bag down on the bed next to Raven, zipping it open to look for something. "When he feels guilty, he buys me shit though."

"Wow, serious sugar daddy goals," Raven says monotonously, dry, falling back on her back, hands intertwined over her stomach.

Clarke laughs, "yeah, but like with marriage and serious sexual favours," throwing Raven one of her bikinis as she disappears into the bathroom with her own. It'd been dark by the time they got there, but it's a Clarke tradition for her to go swimming in the lake the second she gets there. Nothing else in the world makes her feel as… liberated.

She wraps a towel around herself, and throws one at Raven as she leads her outside, through the muddy fields to the lake. It takes a little longer than usual, without Raven's brace, but they get there alright. "Are you ready?" Clarke asks, dropping her towel, but about halfway through the last word, Raven just jumps in, pulling her with her.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Clarke screeches as the cold water engulfes her body, brushing back her hair from her face with both hands as she kicks at the water to stay afloat. "Thanks for the warning."

Raven shrugs, voice slightly more higher pitched than usual as she reaches up to tighten her wet ponytail. "C'mon, it's not that bad." She gives the other woman a challenging look but the way her teeth are clattering kind of give her bluffing ass away.

"Yeah, really?" Clarke retorts, swimming closer to her as she tries to dunk her under water.

"Don't you dare," she insists, pushing her off as they both struggle and yelp and tangle and laugh, god, they laugh—until they're suddenly both very aware of how closed they're pressed together and the laughter dies in their throats.

Clarke's hands are resting on Raven's sides, abs contracting under her touch as she visibly tenses. The blonde smiles, almost endeared, leaning forward to press her lips against Raven's cheek. She smiles back, wiping a strand of wet hair from Clarke's face, putting it behind her ear as she leans forward to kiss her forehead.

She retaliates with her lips feathering against the tanner girl's temple, a nervous, exciting energy running through both of their bodies, who in turn immediately leans forward to smack a kiss to her nose, raising her eyebrows challengingly. Clarke snickers, nuzzling her nose against the side of Raven's face before touching her lips to her chin.

Raven distances her face a little from Clarke's; she cups her face, presses her body closers to hers, runs her hands over her hair before gripping her cheeks. Her movements are slow and calculated, each time giving the other woman enough time to pull away. Then, she leans forward to kiss her on the lips; just a peck, just a taste, just enough that it could be passed off as a friendly mistake.

Clarke forgets to breathe, blue eyes dark and dilated, but doesn't push her off, so Raven leans forward again, brushing their mouths together, longer this time but short enough to leave her wanting more.

When Clarke opens her eyes and finally remembers to breathe, Raven is smirking at her, pushing herself off to float on her back in the water.

Look, Clarke has fully functioning eyes and is a healthy unapologetically bi twenty-nine year old woman and of course, Raven is about the most beautiful, hottest women she's lied eyes on since she found about Beyoncé in fifth grade. She's a genius, and funny, and sarcastic, and badass, and Clarke honestly couldn't imagine her life without her in it—but she's not just all of those things. Clarke's married and Raven was about to be, and to her best friend, out of all people. Her best friend who died. It's complicated.

"You know, being in the water is almost as good as zero G."

"Raven," Clarke just responds, firm, voice hoarser and darker than usual.

She suddenly gets up, lifting her eyebrows as she starts making a move for the nearest deck. "I'm in for a hot shower, how about you?"

They don't quite make it to the shower.

Raven's trailing kisses down her throat, one hand trying to pull down her one piece, her thigh pressing against Clarke's cunt and making her moan embarrassingly loud, hips involuntarily grinding back against her. The brunette snickers lowly against her neck, pulling away slightly to look at her, "Wow, been awhile, Griffin?"

"Shut up," she mutters, cheeks heated as she flips them over, her stomach tightening at the sight of Raven spread out underneath her, hair messy and all over the pillow, lips swollen and red. She moves Raven's top aside, about to get to work when she grabs her by the back of the neck, pulling her forward to connect their lips.

They move together hungrily and sloppily, hands kneading her ass, thigh still creating impossibly good friction and making her see stars behind her eyes. Clarke pulls away, dragging her teeth down Raven's body until she reaches her breasts, nipping and sucking on the skin there until she's making these beautiful little noises that make Clarke press her her thighs together. One hand moves further down Raven's abs, disappearing into her bottoms as her smirk widens against her tan skin, long tan legs spread wider underneath her.

She uses just the tip of her middle finger, spreading more of Raven's wetness across to her clit, fingers moving excruciatingly slow as the other woman gasps and moans, trying to press her legs together. Clarke presses closer to her, a feeble attempt at trying to relieve some of the ache between her own legs.

Raven, unable to open her eyes as Clarke's fingers rub against her clit, barely manages to get out a hoarse "inside" when the blonde abruptly moves further down her stomach, pushing her knees further away and tugging on her bikini bottoms until Raven gets the message and tilts her hips up so Clarke can get them off.

As soon as that happens, Clarke slides two fingers inside of her, eliciting a loud moan from Raven as she arches her back, biting down on her bottom lip. The wet heat forces a groan from Clarke's own mouth. She barely has time to register how beautifully unhinged she looks before she can't take it any longer and has to taste her, Raven moving her hips against her mouth as soon as she does.

Still moving her fingers in and out of Raven slowly, she swirls her tongue against her clit, her other hand kneading her breast, pinching her nipple lightly whenever she sucks on Raven's clit. Clarke can feel the bottoms of her one piece sticking to her, the feel of Raven tightening around her fingers driving her to move her fingers faster, adding another one as she flicks her tongue up and down.

Raven is holding onto her hair, tugging and pulling to get the angle just right, moaning the other woman's name softly. She rocks her hips against Clarke's tongue,the intense pleasure between her legs pulling tighter and tighter inside of her and forcing her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She inhales sharlpy, holding it in as the combination of Clarke's tongue and fingers move just enough to finally bring her over, back arching and tighs locking around Clarke's head as tiny contractions form tiny stars behind her eyes and force a throaty moan from her mouth.

Her hips are still moving as Clarke licks soft and slow against Raven until she's reached her max and pulls on the blonde's hair to break their connection.

"Fuck," Raven breathes, then repeats more loudly, "Fuck!"

Clarke laughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before she presses her lips to Raven's mouth, the brunette chasing her own taste out of her mouth. She pulls away, pecking her lips once more. "You're cute."

"My turn," she smirks lazily, rolling them over as she starts pressing kisses against her stomach.

Later, when they're hazy with post-sexy lazy sleep, Raven presses her mouth to the back of her neck. She sounds deceivingly casual, "You know, you could move in with me. So I won't be alone."

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

Raven's arm slides across her stomach, tips of her fingers tickling the sensitive skin just above her waistband. She presses a kiss just below her ear, teeth grazing her earlobe lightly, breathing, "That's not a no."

Clarke shifts her head slightly, so she can look at Raven over her shoulder. She swallows, pauses for a moment. Then decides on her answer, "It isn't, no."

The next morning, Clarke awakes feeling very conflicted. She looks over at Raven, still asleep on top of the covers because she's always hot, her beautiful body exposed in the early morning light.

She feels happy and sad and good and bad at the same time, and it gets so bad, she decides to go for a run outside, to clear her head. She never used to put her body through that kind of torture unless it was day drinking, so maybe she really is growing up.

She trips about three times, and when she gets to the breakfast buffet, she's covered in grass stains and dirt and Raven's looking at her all amused and mighty and it makes Clarke feel uneasy, because she can't return the favor. She can't just have feelings and have them, her brain always complicates them by a tenfold and she just always feels like she's letting people down.

Raven picks up a strawberry from her plate and takes a bite from the tip. "I spoke to the lady at the reception and she told me they have some cool vintage stores downtown. You want to go?" Some strawberry juice drips down her chin, and it takes everything in Clarke not to—not to do something about it.

Raven catches the juice with her finger, wiping it on her daisy dukes, raising her eyebrows questioningly. Clarke, mid orange juice sips, lights up, forgetting she'd been to distracted to answer the question. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Should be fun."

She stuffs half a waffle in her mouth, avoiding eye contact, then excuses herself to go take a shower while Raven just sends her amused little knowing smiles. Once upon a time, Clarke was smooth. Then she got married, and everything went to shit.

.

Clarke's been mostly quiet the whole afternoon, off in her own world while Raven tried on old men's t-shirts as dresses and scrambled for scrap parts in second-hand stores.

It's not until they're sitting across from each other, picking at their sandwiches, that Raven sighs loudly, pulling out her phone as she uses her other hand to direct the straw of her iced coffee into her mouth.

Clarke's phone buzzes, and she sends her friend a pointed look over her sunglasses before opening the message.

**RAVEN: You okay?**

Something tugs and pulls on her heartstrings, and some of the tightness around her chest falls away as the corners of her lips turn up slightly.

**CLARKE: Yeah**

Raven shifts in her seat, sipping loudly on her drink as she types out another message with her free hand.

**RAVEN: Are you sure? *eye emoji***

Clarke snorts, glancing over at Raven but she's busy looking at her phone. She smiles, a little sad around the edges.

**CLARKE: Mhm, I just don't feel like talking right now I'm sorry**

There's a beat, and then another one, and Clarke's heart is pounding loudly in her ears and then her phone buzzes.

**RAVEN: I understand**

They sport matching shy smiles, sipping on their drinks simultaneously, before finishing the rest of their meal in silence.

That night, when they lie in bed, wide awake, Raven finally speaks.

"I know I come on a little strong sometimes. So, I'm sorry. If I made you feel uncomfortable, but fuck that. I'm not sorry, but I'm sorry if you are. If that makes sense."

Clarke snorts, using the bases of her hands to rub her eyes before she adjusts her head to look at her. "No," she answers, firm, reassuring. Then, "I'm sorry for being a bitch all day."

"Yeah, you were being _a little bit_ of a betch," she retorts, using a serious valley girl accent nearing the end of the sentence. Clarke elbows her in the ribs and Raven chuckles, rubbing her side.

The blonde turns away from her, laying down on her other side. "I'm really confused."

"Shit, welcome to life, Clarke. All of us are confused," Raven replies honestly, pressing her arm to her forehead as she stares at the ceiling. She sighs, waiting a moment before turning on her side, too, facing the back of Clarke's head. "But I think we'll fine. You and me. We always figure something out."

A beat passes before Clarke rolls over onto her other side, connecting their hands in between their faces, lacing their fingers together, the cold material of Raven's engagement ring contrasting against her warm skin. Clarke swallows, tight, licking her dry lips. She wants to say it's complicated, but she remembers what Raven told her in that bathroom a while back, so she dials it back to what she's feeling right now, forgetting all of their circumstances. "I'm happy. About what happened last night."

She moves her head slightly, just a little closer so she can nuzzle her hand. Raven's smile widens, eyes sparkling in the moonlight, and she doesn't really have to say anything for Clarke to know she's happy, too.

.

They leave early the next morning, because Raven feels sick, probably because of all the shrimp she ate in bed the night before. With her legs up the dashboard, head resting against her pillow, she wonders, "Can we stop by cemetery on our way back?"

Clarke smiles, and it feels like a small victory, "Yeah, sure. Of course."

She wants to stop at McDonalds on the way there, even though Clarke tells her it's a bad idea when her stomach's upset, but she should know by now she can't convince Raven of anything when her mind's made up.

She gets ice cream and nuggets, putting them on the dashboard even though it's 95 degrees outside and she never touches them. Clarke knows better than to say anything of it at this point.

When they get there, Clarke stay behind at first, trying to give Raven some privacy before sinking down next to her after a few minutes, taking a deep breath.

"I forgot how much you liked McDonalds and these were your favorites," Clarke smiles tentatively, caressing his headstone like she's actually reaching out to him, eyeing the sticky cup of McFlurry and the chicken nuggets covered in barbeque sauce.

"It'll probably attract rats, but hey." Raven shrugs, plucking at some grass and Clarke can tell she still feels the slightest bit uneasy. "Don't say I never gave you anything."

Clarke sighs, deeply, opens her mouth and then closes it. Finally, after a few minutes she gathers enough courage to say it out loud. "Wells, I'm going to divorce Finn."

Raven addresses the headstone, arms crossed over her chest. "Don't look at me, this is the first time I'm hearing of it, too."

"I wanted to tell the both of you at the same time," Clarke worries her bottom lip, but never breaks eye-contact with Wells' name. She rearranges a bouquet of flowers in front of her, then continues. "I know you thought he was a douchebag from the start, but he's been good to me. When I didn't have you. He really has."

"Why?" Raven asks, finally and Clarke inhales sharply. She's quiet for a while, trying to find the right words. "He keeps making decisions for me that he thinks will be good for me, but are the farthest away from what I need. He thinks he knows me, and it he means well, but he really doesn't. And, maybe. Maybe I changed, or maybe he never knew me, but it just. I can't do it anymore."

Raven exhales, then reaches out to grab her wrist, squeezing lightly to let her know she's there for her. Turning back to Wells, she sends him a small close-mouthed smile. "I promise I will take care of her. That I'll never leave her alone." Raven sniffs, and her jaw clenches like when she tries really hard not to cry. "Because you once did that for me, and it meant a lot. So, thank you. For saving me, Wells. And for bring us together."

Clarke covers Raven's hand with her own, rubbing softly as she smiles, faint, at Wells' headstone. The words somehow mean more, now. "I love you."

Raven wipes at her eyes with her free hand, sniffs, and then adds, "I love you, too."

.

She has a heavy and messy conversation with Finn, it hurts and they both cry but she hopes he understands it's better for the both of them. She can't love him the way he loves her, not anymore. Not when such a big part of her heart is taken.

She moves in with Raven in Wells' old apartment, paints and decorates the walls herself, proudly hangs all of their pictures with Wells on them (even the ones where he's wearing Spongebob underwear and she's sporting cornrows like she isn't too white for that) while she learns her how to make an omelette without burning it and gets her into Mr. Robot. More than ever, Clarke believes things happen they way they do for a reason.

One morning—when her hair's up in a messy bun, held together with paint brushes, button down she's wearing bruised and splattered with paint—Raven catches her off guard by brushing her mouth against hers, pressing something into her hands.

Clarke looks down at her hands, then back up at Raven, who pecks her lips again. "Seriously?"

Raven smiles, a little unsure, as she shrugs. "This is the sixth one I took. They're ninety-nine percent accurate, but I don't fuck with probability."

The blonde breaks out into a grin, pressing her mouth against Raven's stomach with a loud smack before moving back up to eye level, connecting their lips. "You're pregnant."

Bright, and easy, and happy, and sure, she confirms, "I'm pregnant." Brushing some hair behind Clarke's ear, she pauses for a moment, just looking at her, before she adds in a low whisper, that, "We're going to be a family."

.

**fin.**

.

_i need you mine_

_can't fake it_

_'cause you haunt me, baby_

**Author's Note:**

> every time i get a comment another actress/singer we thirst after comes out as gay or bi  
> i nominate lupita nyong'o  
> *jake peralta voice* bYEeeeeee


End file.
